


The Adventure of Dean Winchester and the Siren Goo

by BeLiEVeRiNrAnDOmCApiTaliZatiOn



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Crack, Crack crack crack and more crack, I'm not sorry, M/M, Pie, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-12
Updated: 2013-04-12
Packaged: 2017-12-08 06:28:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/758156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeLiEVeRiNrAnDOmCApiTaliZatiOn/pseuds/BeLiEVeRiNrAnDOmCApiTaliZatiOn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During a case, Dean and Sam get doused in Siren goo that sends them into their ultimate wet dreams. Which means, for Dean, a medical ward, two IV tubes, and Dr. Sexy. [Takes place roughly in Season 5]</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Adventure of Dean Winchester and the Siren Goo

“God fucking damn it, Sammy.”

Sam fumbled fitting the key into the slot of their motel room and Dean impatiently knocked his clumsy hands aside and shoved the key in, turning it, and both boys tumbled into the room.

They were wet. No, that was an understatement. They were soaked. Hardcore, to-the-bone soaked. It wasn’t water either, no, it was foul-smelling weapon-juice from the Monster Of The Week.

“I call shower first,” Dean states. Sammy shoots him Bitch Face #9, but doesn’t protest. They’re both too worn to properly bicker. The son of a bitch hadn’t gone down easy; it’d been some kind of variation on a Siren. It only appeared as beings who already existed – or had existed – who were desired by the subject. Sam’s siren, well, it had been Jess. Boy, had _that_ been emotionally draining. Dean was glad that the thing hadn’t gotten the chance to properly pick from his past. No doubt someone scarring would’ve come out of that.

It also had a peculiar method of defense: spitting dark orange goop out of its pores onto its attackers. He and Sam were absolutely drenched in the stuff. It smelled awful and tasted vaguely of the “grape-flavoured” medicine people give kids. It also clung like a bitch. He scrubbed at it with his nails as he stepped into the hot stream of water.

After vehement cleansing, Dean declared himself Siren-Goop-free and let Sammy take a shower.

Dean, exhausted from the draining day, threw on a pair of boxers and an old t-shirt and plopped down on his designated bed. He was asleep in seconds. 

 

***

 

_Dr. Sexy, report immediately to the second floor, section H please. Dr. Sexy to section H, patient 174719 has been disconnected from their IV._

Dean’s eyes snapped open. He was lying on an uncomfortable mattress, chest bare and clad in thin scrub bottoms. A blanket was tucked securely around his hips. Looking around, confused, he noticed limp IV tubes dangling next to his bed, two, to match the two small holes in his arm.

The curtain to his room was flung aside and a familiar dark-haired doctor strode in.

“D-doctor Sexy,” Dean stuttered, blush growing dark on his face.

The man sent a smouldering gaze down at Dean. “Hello, patient. I see you’ve been a bit naughty with your IV tubes.”

Dean’s head shook uncertainly. “N-no, Doctor ... That wasn’t on purpose. I must’ve been having a-a nightmare or something.” This didn’t make sense ... He was being a patient. To Dr. Sexy. _The_ Dr. Sexy. Dean knew he should be questioning it, should be doing something to get out of this, but he couldn’t move, because Dr. Sexy had gently taken ahold of his arm and was running casual fingers over the two needle pricks.

“Nightmares,” he said, voice low and rumbling. “Well, we can’t have that.”

He sat on the side of Dean’s bed and placed a firm hand on Dean’s right thigh. The hunter’s heartbeat pounded loudly in his ears.

Dr. Sexy leaned in close, looking into Dean’s eyes, and, damn, the hunter was momentarily lost in the perfect amber orbs. His gaze flicked from the doctor’s eyes down to his salmon-coloured lips.

“Tell me, patient,” Dr. Sexy rumbled. “What are your nightmares about?”

Dean laughed nervously. “Oh. Um. Y’know. Silly things. Monsters.”

Dr. Sexy leaned in closer, so close that Dean could feel the push of his breath on his lips.

“And what,” he asked. “Do you dream about?”

“I–” Dean doesn’t know what’s happening, but the doctor is so achingly close. He lets his eyes flutter shut. _“You.”_

Then he is kissing Dr. Sexy. Dean freaking Winchester is _kissing Dr. Sexy._ His heart is going a mile a minute, Jesus Christ, he’s going to pass out, and it doesn’t even matter that, if anyone else were to really look at this, it’d be totally gay, because it’s _Dr. Sexy._ Fuck, _everyone_ makes an exception for Dr. Sexy.

Dean let out a throaty moan and the doctor pressed a finger to his lips.

“Shhh,” he said. “Can’t have you exerting yourself too much, can we? Might have a relapse. You just sit back and let me do all the work.”

Dean moaned again, but softer, and he nipped at the pad of Dr. Sexy’s finger. He tasted like sterilizer. That’s hotter than it should be, but, God damn it, everything about Dr. Sexy is sexy.

Up to and including his cowboy boots, which he then kicked off so he could easily and quietly raise himself up on all fours over his patient, kissing down his neck. Dean tangled his fingers up in Dr. Sexy’s gorgeous locks, arching into his touch. This was very surely turning into the best lay he’d ever had, with Dr. Sexy slipping his deftly med-school-trained hands down to massage Dean’s hips. The man knew where _everything_ was! The perfect turn-on spots, where bundles of nerve endings were sensitive to the touch.

“Your rectus abdominis muscles are impressive,” Dr. Sexy growled. Dean didn’t know what the fuck that was supposed to mean, but it didn’t matter because it roughly seemed to translate over to “You’ve got a nice body.”

“Y-yeah,” he stuttered through quickened breathes. “Uh. You too.”

“As well as your latissimus dorsi. What magnificent anatomy,” the doctor ran an admiring hand up Dean’s rib cage and over his shoulder. He seemed impressed with ... Well, one of the muscles in the hunter’s upper body. “Not to mention your Pectoralis major. Delicious.” He then extended his neck to suck bruises onto Dean’s chest. Dean arched with a gasp and ground their hips together.

“D-doctor,” he sighed.

Dr. Sexy kissed him silent, hitching Dean’s leg up to slot their hips together. Dean mewled, cries of “oh!” and “more!” escaping his kiss-reddened lips.

“I’m going to make you ejaculate, my dear patient,” Dr. Sexy growled. “Ejaculate so hard that your seminal vesicle with be squeezed dry. I will ruin your epididymis and dessicate your vas deferens. I will milk you so hard that your reproductive system will not work for months.”

Jesus fucking Christ, medical jargon really shouldn’t get Dean off, but there you have it.

The doctor ran sullied lips down Dean’s torso to nip at his hipbones. This was it. The wet dream of the century: Dr. Sexy, M.D., was going to suck off Dean Winchester.

“Dean.”

His name came from the right and the hunter whipped his head around to find Castiel standing beside the head of the bed, disturbed grimace on his face. Dean’s already reddened cheeks darkened to a ruddy maroon and he hissed at the angel.

“Cas, what the fuck, can’t you see I’m –”

Cas pressed two fingers to Dean’s forehead and he startled awake, tucked under a thin sheet in the motel room. He glanced around frantically. No Dr. Sexy. No medical ward. No IV tubes. Just a cheap motel room, Sam in the next bed over, looking as confused and embarrassed as Dean felt, and Castiel, their friendly neighborhood angel, standing in between the two hunters with that “Why Do I Interact With Humanity Again?” expression on his face.

“Cas!” Dean said, enraged. “What the fuck, man, couldn’t you see I was busy? Why’d you have to zap us awake, asshole?”

“Dean,” Cas said. “Had you continued to sleep, the Siren’s poison would have begun seeping into your internal organs and eventually your liver would have seized and your heart would have given out. I took it upon myself to wake you and cleanse your systems. You should both be safe now.”

Sam buried his face in his hands. “So ... Those dreams? Those were a side effect of the Siren goo?”

Cas nodded. “The poison is soaked through the skin into the bloodstream. It contains a narcotic. The aim is to send you into a drug-induced sleep, with pleasant dreams so you shall not wake, giving the poison time to shut down major organs. Quite a clever defense mechanism.” He glanced over at Dean, then looked away uncomfortably. “I apologize that I ... intruded on what I’m sure were very personal moments, but there was no other option.”

Both Sam and Dean flushed.

“I ... Well,” Cas looked down awkwardly. “I had planned to stay for a day or so with you two. There was another clue to God’s location that ended nowhere and I was hoping for a break before I began pursuing my next lead. But it seems I have put us in an awkward situation, interrupting you both from your pleasures. I shall be going.”

“No, no,” Sam said, motioning at Cas for him to stay. “It’s fine, Cas, really. Thank you for the help. You saved us and that’s what’s important.”

Cas looked pleased, but Dean most certainly was not. He grumbled.

His brother looked at him, rolling his eyes. “C’mon, Dean, let’s take Cas out for pie. There’s a diner just down the way.”

Well, Dean supposed he could work with that. If there was anything that could replace Dr. Sexy, it was pie. He stood and threw on some pants and his jacket. “Sounds like a plan,” he said. “If I can’t have Dr. Sexy in me, I might as well have some pie.”

Sam stared at his brother. “Really, dude?” 

Dean leveled a high-power glare. “Shut up, bitch.” He felt the blush spread once more over his cheeks.

His brother smirked. "Jerk." 

Cas, standing between the two brothers, looked at Dean, then at Sam, and said, slyly smiling, “Race you to the Impala.”

The angel disappeared in the sound of fluttering wings and the brothers tripped over each other getting out the door. They all piled into the car and Dean revved her and took off down the street.

Okay, so maybe an angel had just cockblocked him from fucking the doctor of his dreams. But he would take pie, his brother, and his best friend, over a stupid TV star any day. 

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, sometimes I forget that I was actually the one that wrote this and I'll just kind of idly read it or think about it once in a while and be like "Wow, the person who made that was one weirdo fuck." But then I remember that I wrote it and I was not intoxicated at the time and had gotten a sufficient amount of sleep and I have literally no excuse and I die a little inside.


End file.
